The Maxims of the Rich
by Nightsmoke
Summary: Ten lessons/rules one should know about the Ouran Academy and its members... reads and reviews are welcome, thanks
1. Lesson 1

The Maxims of the Rich

_Ten lessons and rules one should know about Ouran Academy..._

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_

**A/N:** I really don't have time for this, but it helps ease college app. stress when it becomes overwhelming. This is a big project (well, for me).

_All characters © Hatori Bisco_

* * *

**Lesson # 1: Never read from a book you find on the floor.**

Two weeks earlier, in the Fujioka Household…

A particularly foul word escaped Fujioka Ranka's lips as he hopped on one foot, massaging his smarting toe. He growled at whatever obstruction had caused him to stub it, looking down to see what had inflicted such pain on his poor toe.

It was a black book, on the floor outside of Haruhi's room. Ranka picked it up gingerly, noting that there was no inscription on the front or back of it. He surmised it was probably one of Haruhi's schoolbooks that she had dropped by mistake on her way to school.

Ranka frowned and opened the book, curious to see which subject it was about. The page he had flipped to displayed a faded illustration of a clock, but Ranka could not read the text: it was written in some foreign script. One word was written on the inside cover: _Nekozawa_. It didn't look like a schoolbook.

After mumbling a few of the book's words aloud, Ranka dismissed the book and casually tossed it aside. Haruhi had never mentioned any foreign language classes besides French, so this had probably fallen into her bookbag by mistake. Oh well.

* * *

One week earlier, Ouran Academy

Under normal circumstances Fujioka Haruhi would never find herself pushing open the thick leaded door to the Black Magic Club, but today, these were no normal circumstances.

As soon as her eyes adjusted to the dimness, she was greeted by the sight of a few daunting individuals clad in ink-black cloaks. They were seated at a round tea-table and wore identical vapid expressions of gloom.

"Can we help you, freshman Fujioka Haruhi?" a sophomore who looked akin to the bride of Frankenstein asked her flatly.

"Um, I was hoping to talk to Nekozawa-senpai," Haruhi said, a bit uncomfortably. The girl sipped from her teacup delicately before answering.

"Master, you have a visitor," she said without turning as her eyes, heavy with black mascara, closed.

"Who is it?" the voice from behind the tapestry came out in barely more than a whisper. Haruhi resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

"Someone from the Host Club."

Immediately Umehito Nekozawa brushed aside the velvet veil, regarding the intruder with irises that were a pale blue.

"Come to join the Black Magic Club at last, Fujioka-san?" he muttered eagerly. "If you do, you can get a discount on this Berezenef plushie."

"No, I did not come for that, Nekozawa-senpai," Haruhi answered bluntly as, with hurt eyes, the club leader tucked away his doll. "I was actually hoping you could help me with something serious; I didn't know who else to ask…" Umehito raised an eyebrow under his hood.

"Something is very wrong with the Host Club," Haruhi confessed. "I seem to be the only one who notices that anything is amiss."

The putative Black Magic president cocked his head. "What does this have to do with me, Fujioka-san?" he asked in his raspy voice.

"Well," Haruhi began, looking a bit itchy, "I'm starting to believe that what's happening is not normal. You know…_supernatural."_ At the _s_-word Umehito looked up.

"Just what's going on?"

The female host sighed. "I feel crazy enough without explaining it, so can I just show you, Nekozawa-senpai?" He nodded, and Haruhi started towards the door after motioning for him to follow.

* * *

"So, what is wrong here?" Nekozawa asked her, squinting against the brightly-lit atmosphere of the third music room. "I see nothing out of place."

"No, you wouldn't at a first glance," Haruhi replied. The Host Club appeared to be completely normal, following their quotidian routine of charming the female population and enjoying themselves. They had greeted Haruhi and Umehito upon their entrance, but had returned to their club activities.

Haruhi rolled up the sleeve of her male Ouran uniform, revealing a cheap-but-sturdy-looking watch fastened around her wrist. "Nekozawa-senpai, you are about to witness it, so watch closely," she said.

He turned to her, coal-colored mantle swishing. "What is it?" he asked.

"See that Chinese lacquer vase over there?" she inquired, pointing. Umehito nodded.

"In approximately one minute Kaoru is going to bump into it and shatter it."

Nekozawa was silent for a moment, looking at the freshman with a combination of confusion and anticipation. That minute seemed to arrive hours later.

"Cue the crash," Haruhi said in a bored tone.

_CRASH._

"Kaoru!"

"Hikaru!"

"Are you okay? No, you cut yourself! Haven't I told you to look where you're going? If I lost you, I don't know what I'd do…"

"Oh, and one of their designators is going to faint from how beautiful the twincest is," Haruhi added as a casual afterthought.

Sure enough, a "Saki! Get a hold of yourself!" could be heard a second later as the other two girls began to fan their semi-conscious classmate.

Umehito turned slowly towards Haruhi, feeling every tendon in his neck creaking. His mouth seemed too dry and his pulse throbbed blindingly behind his eyelids.

"How is this possible?" he whispered. "No, I won't believe it just yet."

Haruhi's shoulders jostled up and down in a shrug. "I thought you were the president of the Magic Club. Surely you must believe in the supernatural. If not, then just watch.

"Now Kyouya-senpai will add another 5,326 yen to _my_ debt for not stopping them," she concluded.

"Oh, Haruhi, that's another 5,326 yen on your debt."

Nekozawa felt his eyes grow wider with every passing moment.

"In five minutes Honey will accidentally get cream on his stuffed rabbit, attracting more moe fans."

"Mitsukuni, let me clean that for you."

"Now Tamaki-senpai is going to trip on that banana peel that Renge just dropped."

"GyaaAAAHJASDAGFLB!"

He couldn't take it anymore. Umehito grabbed Haruhi's arm and dragged her back into the dank comfort of his own club room.

"How did you know all of those things, Fujioka-san?" he whispered fiercely. "Are you a child of divination?"

Haruhi shook him off. "No, senpai. I've just witnessed this day about seven times already. I've already seen everything that's going on."

"So," Umehito mused with the Berezenef puppet on his hand (when did that get there?), "you mean to say that this day has been repeating itself over and over again? Is that correct?"

"Well, not 'this day,' if you want to be exact. Just the time between 3pm to 5pm, the club hours. They don't seem to realize that they are doing the same thing every afternoon since last week," Haruhi responded.

Nekozawa stroked his chin with the puppet as his light eyes became cloudy and nebulous. As a master of the occult, he was perfectly able to accept that what was going on was the work of the spectral. It had just been a shock, witnessing it firsthand.

Digging through his mental library, he found only two possibilities that could be contributing to this phenomenon. "I'll let you hear my theories on the matter, Fujioka-san," he began after a moment.

"My first theory is that one of your classmates is secretly using a time-machine to relive the same afternoon over and over," the president stated darkly.

Haruhi wrinkled her nose and gave her head a shake. "No, I find that hard to believe, senpai."

"The second option," Umehito continued, "is that a curse has been placed on someone or something in the room to rewind their actions in a perpetual continuum of time." His voice trailed off into an ominous, if a touch melodramatic whisper.

"I'm willing to acknowledge that something supernatural is going on, but curses?" Haruhi poked her head through the door into the music room, where the club was. None of them seemed cursed or of ill-nature to her.

Umehito nodded. "I have read of such things before," he stated. "Fujioka-san, is there a clock in the third music room?"

* * *

And that was a week ago. Haruhi strolled through the brightly-lit club room with a satisfied expression one afternoon. She felt enormous relief at seeing new things occur among the hosts. With a knock, she entered the dim Black Magic room once more.

"Master," the members chorused upon seeing who it was. Nekozawa floated in a moment later.

"Ah, Fujioka-san," he rasped. "How are things in your club now?"

Haruhi gave a warm smile. "Everything is back to normal, senpai. I just wanted to thank you again for lifting that curse." A line appeared in between her eyes. "Though it beats me as to who would want to bewitch a clock anyway…"

"It doesn't really matter," Umehito replied. "But I must say—"he grinned—"that was a lot of fun, performing that reversal incantation!" The female host deadpanned. Nekozawa-senpai will always be Nekozawa-senpai, after all.

"But what I still find curious," he continued, "is why you were not affected by the spell, Fujioka-san."

A shrug jostled Haruhi's small shoulders. "All of the other hosts were, and our designators were only affected when the hosts spoke to them," she recalled.

The corners of Umehito's lips twitched. "With curses like those, I have read that they usually affect the men, and the men spread the curse's effects to the women. If this was indeed a curse of that caliber, I wonder why you were not impacted, Fujioka?"

Haruhi shifted awkwardly. "Who knows?" she asked with a tremulous chuckle. "Maybe I wasn't in the room at the time…"

"And another thing," Umehito added, holding up a finger, much like a detective in the midst of an inspiring idea. "I also find it odd that whoever implemented this curse knew _of_ it, and how to do it correctly." He fell silent for a moment.

"Well it's over, and I guess we'll never know," Haruhi commented tentatively with another laugh. She exited the club room and returned to her own, where six hosts waited with welcoming smiles.

End. Stay tuned for the next chapter!


	2. Lesson 2

The Maxims of the Rich

_Ten lessons and rules one should know about Ouran Academy..._

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_

**A/N: **Thank you for the feedback, it's inspired me to continue. I need to start thinking of more ideas :P

_All characters © Hatori Bisco_

* * *

**Lesson #2: Never attempt to understand Hitachiin cryptophasia. **

"…Eh?"

It had been only a few weeks following Fujioka Haruhi's indoctrination into Ouran's renowned Host Club when she finally noticed it. They didn't really seem to be aware of doing so, she noted, with a kind of speculative fascination, as she observed the Hitachiin twins from a distance. One day, when the covertly female host was not attending to her designators, she decided to ask the only person who would be able to give her an intelligent answer: Kyouya.

"Something bothering you, Haruhi?" the club's Vice President asked as he heard her light footsteps approaching, dark eyes resting on the pulsating screen of his laptop.

"No, not really," Haruhi answered casually, hoping that she was not disturbing the Shadow King as he ran his underworld funds for the club. "Kyouya-senpai, I was just wondering…"

"What is it?"

Haruhi's brown eyes drifted towards the twins again, who were sitting with their arms wrapped around one another in the midst of their tender brotherly love act.

"Have you noticed that Hikaru and Kaoru sometimes use, ah, _strange_ words when talking with one another?"

Kyouya brushed a rogue strand of black hair from his forehead and closed his laptop with a little snick. "Of course," he replied, stretching in his chair.

A frown flitted across Haruhi's face as she replied, "Sometimes I can't understand what they're saying at all—I thought they were Japanese, but are their parents foreign?"

"Well excluding you, Haruhi, all of the Host Club members are proficient in at least three different languages," Kyouya said with pride, pushing his oval-shaped glasses up on the bridge of his sharp nose. Haruhi rolled her eyes. Damn rich bastards.

Kyouya continued after a pause. "But, that has nothing to do with it. Hikaru and Kaoru share one of the strangest cases of twin cryptophasia."

"Eh? Cryptophasia?"

He nodded. "A type of language identical twins can develop that is understood by only them. It is more common amongst siblings who have had more interpersonal communication between themselves than with their parents."

"That's interesting," Haruhi admitted with a contemplative expression on her face.

"Ah," Kyouya agreed. "There are not many cases of it documented, even in recent history."

"So… is there any logic to their words? Like the Morse Code, or the English Pig-Latin?" the female host inquired, turning her gaze onto the Vice President. He smiled mysteriously, glasses catching the light of the room and gleaming like a cat's iris in the night.

"I suspect that the Hitachiin brothers must realize that they are doing it on some level," he began matter-of-factly, "but after listening to them for a year I have deduced that a great deal of their speech consists of a combination of different Japanese words, sometimes said backwards or in reversed characters. It has no regular pattern, so even I can't construe their idiolect."

She was speechless for a moment. Haruhi had always thought that Hikaru and Kaoru, although talented and pleasant on occasion, were generally a pair of demonic doppelgangers that loved to cause mischief. It was her first year at Ouran, after all, and she had never really gotten the opportunity to see past the perverted and sometimes devilish façade of her bronze-haired classmates. It …was fascinating.

"Haruhi, since you do not have any designators this afternoon, I have an interesting proposition for you," Kyouya's smooth voice cut into her musings and made her look up.

"What is it, Kyouya-senpai?" she asked, tilting her head to the side.

He smiled once more, burying his face in the black data book that rested in his open hands. "If you can decipher one sentence of their cryptophasia, I will take one million yen off of your remaining debt."

Haruhi's shoulders slumped at the chimera. "I know I am smart," she protested, "but in all honesty, if Kyouya-senpai couldn't do it, I don't think I could either."

"Seven million yen," was the only reply she received as his ballpoint pen jotted slickly across the pages of his book. Haruhi huffed a defeated breath and unconsciously straightened her tie.

"Fine, I'll give it a try," she grumbled flatly, slinking off to where the twins were concluding their hosting show. When the guests had left Haruhi took a seat casually by their corner of the room.

"Haruhiii!" the twins chorused, eyes bright and wicked. "Come for another demonstration?"

"As if," she muttered, taking out an economics textbook and a padded spiral notebook. "It's just to noisy to do my homework over there," she added, jerking her head over to where Tamaki-senpai was floundering loudly over something.

"Poor Haruhi," Kaoru crooned. "Can't even afford a laptop, so she has to write out her homework out manually. Isn't that sad, Hikaru?" His twin nodded in agreement.

"Well, carry on writing in your commoner notebook, Haruhi," he declared with a wave of his hand as she glared at him. "We'll try not to bother you... too much," he added with a smirk.

* * *

In reality, the economics homework proved to be no great crucible for a mind such as hers. Just as well, for she had only planned on using it as an excuse to hear the twins in action. The club continued on, the last of the designators petering off and the hosts going about their own things: removing costumes, calculating budgets, the usual.

Haruhi bit the end of her pencil, about to give up, when she finally heard it.

"Kaoru,_ wonol undeHasw dointh?_" (1)

Haruhi's ears twitched, picking up the unfamiliar phrase that had just tumbled from Hikaru's mouth. However she didn't look up, in fear that they would stop.

_"Mn. Ninp? No, inthbluwn,"_ was Kaoru's response. The words were uttered in a soft, low tone, and spoken in a much faster tempo than their normal speaking voices.

_"Bakakao, Edetho fedintel. Weldoush kras." _

Haruhi closed her book. "Excuse me," she asked politely, "but what are you two talking about?" Abruptly the twins looked up, puzzled at first, but flushing slightly around the cheeks as they stared at her.

"Not much, Haruhi," Kaoru responded, as casually as he could. His older brother elbowed him in the ribs. The younger gave him a reproachful look that clearly said _"no way."_

Hikaru made a 'tch' sound. _"Edetho,"_ he murmured.

"Hmm, what does that word mean, Hikaru?" Haruhi asked inquisitively. Now it was Kaoru's turn to 'tch.'

"You _are_ an idiot," he sighed, turning to his female classmate. "I'm sorry Haruhi, but I can't tell you that," he replied.

"Eh? Why not?"

The twins looked itchy, the younger more so than the older. "Well, it would just be… uncomfortable," Hikaru said as he grasped for a sound excuse. "You wouldn't understand."

Haruhi dipped her head and exhaled, the epitome of defeat. "I see. But you know," she went on in a falsely lonesome voice, "I was going to let you two come over to my house this weekend."

Immediately the Hitachiin twins snapped to attention. Haruhi's house? Just them, without Tono? They deliberated, wondering if it was worth it. After a moment, they decided it was.

"You see," Hikaru began, taking responsibility as the older twin and confessing, "_'edetho'_ is our way of saying, um, red thong."

Haruhi's eyebrow twitched sporadically, remembering the way they had looked at her a moment ago. "And why, pray tell, would you two be talking about red thongs?"

"Well—"

* * *

Kyouya sensed a particularly irked aura emanating from the figure approaching his table. "Ah, Haruhi," he greeted her pleasantly. "Did you manage to decipher the Hitachiin cryptophalia?" his lithe fingers hovered over the keyboard of his laptop, as if ready to subtract the numbers from her debt. She was normally an_ exremely_ impervious individual and was not easily offended, so Kyouya decided to give her his full attention for a moment.

"I did not," Haruhi fumed. If this was an anime, she would be sporting a lovely anger-vein sign atop her temple right now, Kyouya surmised. He fully caught her expression as she met his gaze. Make that several anger-vein signs.

"What I _did_ find out was that Hikaru and Kaoru need to get their minds washed out with soap," she snapped. "Are dirty things all that men think about?"

Although the query was rhetorical, the Shadow King answered with a frank "pretty much," and resumed his typing.

"If I wasn't trying to pay off my debt I would switch to the female uniform immediately; this has made me reconsider passing off as a male. It's insulting to my name," she scowled, stomping away. Kyouya's fingers paused once more, watching her go. He would have to ask the twins what they could have said to provoke such a reaction in their natural rookie. She was so amusing when she was in a snit.

_End._

* * *

(1) (You should read this before finishing the story)

"What color underwear do you think Haruhi's wearing?"

"I don't know. Pink? No, I think blue or brown."

"Karou, you're an idiot. It's definitely a red thong. We should ask her."

--

_Real cryptophasia would probably not sound like that, but I thought that it would be interesting to write about. The Hitachiin twins certainly would have been suseptible to developing it growing up, since their parents never spent much time with them and they were alone in their own little world most of the time._


	3. Lesson 3

The Maxims of the Rich

_Ten lessons and rules one should know about Ouran Academy..._

**A/N:** Third chapter! If you haven't already noticed, I _really_ like picking on Kyouya-san :P

_All characters © Hatori Bisco_

* * *

**Lesson # 3: Kyouya and flowers don't mix.**

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**

Ouran High, in a sense, was in full bloom. Oh, but not on the outside; the trees were bare and black, the weather was bitingly frigid, and the streets were slick with slushy ice. It was, after all, the middle of February.

No, the blooming came from within the walls of the school, where its upper-class inhabitants were preparing for the holiday. Silk valentines were being made, foreign chocolates were being imported, and the finest jewelry was being shipped by the boxful to the prestigious, wealthy families of Ouran. The Host Club was thriving, and their female guests were even more lovestruck than usual.

"Honey-kun, would you like Scandinavian or American chocolates for Valentine's Day?"

"This is my father's finest maker, Tamaki-sama; I hope it will please you…"

"We can't wait to see you in those, Hikaru!"

Like Christmas, Halloween, or any other major holiday for that matter, the school got extremely involved. They certainly had the free time to spend getting into the seasonal cheer.

In the Host Club, Ootori Kyouya had left to retrieve the doilies and extravagant lace necessary to decorate the third music room even further. Suoh Tamaki was accompanying a student cellist as they performed Beethoven's third sonata in A major together. It was a captivating performance—the cellist was an upperclassman with a cloud of thick, auburn waves cascading over her shoulders. Her bow glazed over the strings, smooth as molasses, and with a deep passion. She was most likely a foreigner, for her skin was very pale and she had strong facial features. Her eyes were a large blue-gray, which was not very common amongst the Japanese. Overall, it was a romantic recital.

On the far side of the room, the Hitachiin twins were writing dreamy poetry for their designators. A faded yellow thesaurus lay at their side and they were taking pleasure in reading their works out loud to one another. Haruhi rolled her eyes and commented on their pathetic vocabulary and sentence structure. Honey-senpai and Mori-senpai had donned identical splattered aprons and were busy making cookies, cakes, and any other pastries imaginable. The smell was enough to make one salivate.

After Tamaki's concert, Kyouya returned with the bag of doilies. Heaving a sigh he set them down, looking impassively at the receipt that accompanied. The King of Hosts noticed his arrival, fanned out his blonde hair, and greeted his fellow host as he walked in the door.

"_Okaasan_, we missed you so!" Tamaki crooned. His expression turned eager, like a hungry puppy begging for a treat. "Did you get the decorations?" Kyouya gave a nod.

"I was able to g—"he suddenly stopped mid-sentence, dark eyes widening slightly.

"Tamaki," he said quietly, looking at the new additions to the music room. "What are those?"

"What're what?" The Host King followed Kyouya's gaze, which was resting on the soft, mauve bouquets strewn out on one of the room's settees and in other various locations of the room. "The lilacs?"

Haruhi looked up from her table, noticing that the club's vice president looked very wary, almost afraid. The expression was so foreign on Kyouya's features that she rose and walked over with curiosity baiting her senses.

"Oh, Renge got them for us while you were out!" Tamaki gushed, oblivious to his classmate's expression. "Don't they look _lovely_ with the room?"

Kyouya frowned and actually took an involuntary step backwards. "That's a matter of opinion," he replied with apparent distaste. His voice, although debonair, came out sounding somewhat squeezed. The Hitachiin twins, who had been listening in, gave their vice president a puzzled, hazel look.

Abruptly, Kyouya cupped a hand over his mouth and nose and sneezed lightly, twice. Haruhi and Tamaki blinked as he muttered a low "excuse me."

"So that's it," Hikaru and Kaoru mused together as they figured it out immediately, fiercely suppressing the urge to snicker. It was a battle that they would soon lose, and only the thought of what Kyouya would do to them reeled them in from the brinks of laughter. It was a good thing that they did, for said host was not looking very pleased at the moment.

"Goodness, Kyouya!" Tamaki exclaimed with wide, pale eyes as his classmate failed to stifle a few more sneezes. "Are you alright?" he asked, cocking his head.

"Get rid of them, Tamaki," the Shadow King managed, sounding a bit lightheaded. "N-now…" he trailed off, features wearing a strange expression behind his glasses. His breath began to hitch.

Hikaru grinned and met his brother's equally amused gaze.

"Uh-oh."

Kyouya broke into a paroxysm, unable to stop for a good minute. Haruhi looked a little taken aback as she lost count, feeling sorry for her senpai. Reaching into her powder-blue Ouran jacket she extracted a folded handkerchief and handed it to Kyouya, who took it when he had finished, looking rather embarrassed.

"It's okay, senpai, we all have things like that," she said consolingly as he nodded and departed the music room. He had not but shut the door behind him when the twins burst into bright peals of hoots and laughter, unable to contain it any longer.

"It looks like Kyouya-senpai's got a weakness after all!" Kaoru sniggered. Tamaki smiled at the thought.

"Hmm," he wondered. "This does not bode well. Maybe I really should get rid of them." He went to the settee and picked up a bouquet of the lavender flowers, absorbing their sweet and pleasant odour with a tinge of sadness.

Hikaru had a mischievous little half-smile on his face. "Are you kidding?" he asked incredulously. "We haven't had this much fun in ages!" Two identical pairs of hazel eyes sparkled humouredly.

At this even Haruhi allowed herself a fleeting grin. "I don't think I've ever seen Kyouya-senpai act so entertaining," she admitted, "but we should probably throw them out."

* * *

An hour later the third music room had been de-lilac-ed, and Houshakuji Renge was apologizing profusely to a slightly watery-eyed, pink-nosed Kyouya.

"No, it's alright Renge, you couldn't have known," he calmed her with a polite smile, internally wincing at the thick sound of his voice. Trying to retain at least some of his dignity, he gracefully pushed his glasses up as Tamaki approached.

"Na, _okaasan_," Tamaki began, giving a sad, puppy-eyed look. "We're sorry too for this mishap. Would you like some more tissues?"

Kyouya sighed and tried not to glare at Tamaki; he only meant well. The twins, on the other hand…

"We know senpai's weak-ness, we know senpai's weak-ness!" they chorused in amazingly accurate unison, beaming gleefully. Hikaru leaned in with a coy look. "We could use this the next time you try to blackmail us, Kyouya-senpai."

Kyouya raised an eyebrow, unfazed. "Hikaru, Kaoru, come here for a minute," he said, motioning for them to follow him into the next room.

Haruhi and Honey, who had joined Tamaki, gazed at their king inquiringly. Tamaki smiled down at them, an oddly sapient smile that was at odds with his boyish face.

"They should have known better than to mess with Kyouya," he replied simply. They nodded and cast sorrowful glances at the doorway in which the three had exited.

After a few minutes the twins reappeared, followed by Kyouya, who looked somewhat smug. The two freshmen were fidgeting nervously, and Kaoru was even trembling a little.

"We won't ever mention what happened this afternoon to anyone, okay?" They asked the other club members. Haruhi noticed that the brothers looked pale and anxious, beads of perspiration forming at their temples. "What happens in the Host Club stays in the Host Club."

The others nodded. "Of course."

Throughout the rest of the day the club gave Kyouya a wide berth indeed, allergies or no allergies.

_End._


	4. Lesson 4

The Maxims of the Rich

_Ten lessons and rules one should know about Ouran Academy..._

A/N: The end of this was a bit rushed, sorry. Anyways, please enjoy! Feedback is loved.

_All characters © Hatori Bisco_

* * *

**Lesson 4: Tamaki's definition of privacy is slightly different than everyone else's. **

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**

"Haruhi, please tell us where you obtained this coffee from, so that our customers will know which company to sue if they contract any sort if illness following consumption."

Freshman Fujioka Haruhi, aka "The Commoner," threw a flat brown glare at her upperclassman. "It's from a place called 'Starbucks,' Kyouya-senpai," she said between her teeth. His dark eyes remained blank and uncomprehending behind his oval specs, silence implying that she should elaborate.

"It's a coffee place," Haruhi continued, restraining with all her might from throwing the words 'damn rich bastards' anywhere in that sentence. "Regular people go there to socialize and drink caffeinated beverages."

Pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his sharp nose, Kyouya smiled coyly. "And by 'regular' people do you mean those with a pathetic dearth of finances?"

"…"

"Just drink the coffee, Kyouya-senpai."

* * *

As it turned out, the club's vice-president did not end up drinking the coffee. However, that's not to say that it wasn't consumed…

"GOOD AFTERNOON, MY WIFE!"

Kyouya extracted his index finger tentatively from the inside of his ear. "What is it, Tamaki?" Said host pouted childishly.

"Must I have a reason for imposing upon my best friend?" he asked, cerulean eyes wide and naïve. "I'm merely inquiring where this splendid beverage has come from," Tamaki added, leaning in close and holding up an empty cup on a saucer delicately with two fingers.

Trying to ignore the uncomfortable proximity of his classmate, Kyouya replied, "Ask Haruhi; she was the one who bought it. Now, could you please remove yourself from my desk so that I can finish totaling these payments?" Although his tone was one of annoyance, the Shadow King's words were only half-serious. This was Tamaki, after all.

Tamaki seemed to deliberate, biting his lower lip and shifting his eyes around the third music room. "By the way, _okaasan_, where is our daughter?"

"In back, I believe," was Kyouya's answer as he nodded in the direction of the other room. With a little "tehee" Tamaki had zoomed off to question the unfortunate girl about the coffee that had so intoxicated his system with caffeinated goodness.

* * *

"Haruhi? Oi, Haruhiiii?" Tamaki looked to his left and right, hand cupped against the side of his mouth as he called.

"I'll be right out, senpai," a muffled voice replied from behind one of the changing curtains.

"But daughter, I must know now where you bought this splendid coffee from!" The King of Hosts protested. He followed the sound of her voice, stopping at one of the booths and swinging open the curtain. Haruhi made a little _"ulp"_ sound in the back of her throat and clutched her blouse to her torso as the open curtain exposed her. Tamaki felt a fleeting sense of déjà vu as his ears began to turn red.

She was clad in a small, black bra, its dark hue juxtaposed against the creamy paleness of her revealed skin. Her pants were on, but unlike last time she was facing him. With a sudden clarity Tamaki realized that he could see the tiny swell of her small breasts and the way her collarbones protruded softly from her chest.

Unfortunately he could only stand there, captivated and gaping like a fangirl watching her favorite actor on television. And unfortunately, Haruhi was the first one to take action.

* * *

"What was that, Takashi?" senior Haninozuka Mitsukuni asked his older cousin, swallowing a mouthful of tart and gazing up with inquisitive eyes.

"Mn," Mori shrugged. He was also curious as to what that loud crash that sounded a minute ago was.

"Ne, do you think—"

_"Senpai! Haven't you ever heard of a thing called _privacy?"

Honey and Mori exchanged glances.

"But Haruhi! I didn't know that you were changing, and—"

"THAT'S WHY PEOPLE NORMALLY GO INTO A CHANGING ROOM!"

Kyouya used the hand that pushed up his glasses to discreetly hide a smile and coughed to hide his laughter.

Haruhi stormed out of the back room then, buttoning the last few buttons on her blouse and looking very irked.

"Thank _god_ it's the weekend," she fumed aloud as Tamaki followed her guiltily. "I can finally get away from you people for two whole days!"

"She's so cute when she's mad," Hikaru whispered to his younger twin, who nodded silently.

Haruhi slung her bookbag over her shoulder, ready to leave now that the club activities were over. "Honestly, Tamaki-senpai," she said in a calmer tone, "Sometimes I wish you respected peoples' boundaries a little more." With that said she stormed out, the silence in her wake almost deafening to the ear.

"I…I didn't mean to…" Tamaki mumbled, looking at the floor. "Na, _okaasan,"_ he said to Kyouya mournfully. "Haruhi got mad at me."

"And what would you like me to do about that?"

Tamaki took the question literally and fell into silence for a moment, curling a white-blonde lock of hair around his finger. After a moment his eyes lit up like spotlights and his finger left his hair to point up ebulliently.

"I have it!" the host king cried, startling everyone in the vicinity. "I'll make it up to Haruhi!" The others looked at him with puzzled expressions, sensing the formulation of an elaborate plan. Tamaki thought for another minute, then began to speak.

"Honey-senpai, I'll need you to tell me…"

"Hikaru, Kaoru, what was the name of that…"

"Kyouya, what time does…"

* * *

_The Next Day.._

Haruhi shut her eyes and sprawled out like a cat on her bed, sinking into the ragged but pleasantly-soft covers. A book was curled under one arm and fluffy white slippers covered her feet. Stretching on her back and running a hand through her clean-washed hair, the freshman sighed. She could not even remember the last time she had enjoyed a quiet, peaceful Saturday. No homework, no chores, and no Host Club.

"Haruhi dear, would you like a sandwich?" her father called from the other room.

"That'd be great, Dad!" she answered, smiling contently. The sun was high in the sky, and the afternoon glow illuminated her bedroom with just the right amount of light to read. Haruhi loved fiction, and opened her copy of The _Sword in the Stone_ to the page that she had left off on.

After a short while, Ranka's voice cut into Haruhi's world of owls and wizards. "Oiya? Look who it is!"

Haruhi began to get that sinking feeling in her stomach, similar to the feeling one gets when they know that impending doom is approaching.

"Haruhiii! Pretty boy's here to see you!" Ranka called, the humor evident in his tone.

"Tell him I'm not here!" Haruhi protested, moaning and burying her head in her pillow in hopes that it would cause the visitor to magically vanish.

"Too late," Ranka muttered as a yellow comet whizzed past him. Mr. Fujioka allowed himself a grin and fanned out his sleek hair prettily. That was one boy after his own heart.

"Can't I ever spend one weekend without seeing you?" Haruhi grumbled as Tamaki popped into her room. She saw he was wearing a dark green sweater and soft brown slacks which complimented the shade of his hair rather nicely.

"Of course not, Haruhi," Tamaki replied, strolling gallantly into the bedroom and surveying the living space. "You are our family, after all. Hmm, no matter how many times I see this house its sheer smallness never ceases to amaze me…" Haruhi felt a vein throb in her temple.

"I don't mean to be rude, Tamaki-senpai, but don't you have something better to do?"

He smiled eagerly, holding out his hand. "If I didn't I wouldn't be here, now would I?" Haruhi once more felt herself silently cursing the rich. Honestly, they had an annoyingly copious amount of free time on their hands.

"I came to apologize for intruding on my precious daughter the other day," Tamaki began, brushing a piece of lint off of his jade sweater absently. "And as consolation, I would like to take you out somewhere, Haruhi."

The freshman heaved a sigh. "Why not, senpai? You've already invaded my privacy enough already for one week," she said flatly. His face lit up as she rose, grabbing her jacket and leaving _The Sword in the Stone_ lying lonesome on her bed.

* * *

Her left eyelid began to twitch, once, twice. "Senpai, is this another one of your commoners' obsessions?"

They were standing outside a dimly-lit shop with transparent glass doors, Tamaki gazing keenly at the green letters painted across the door that read _Starbucks_.

"Haruhi, I've never been here before," the Host King stated with a kind of hushed awe. "But I was informed that you got yesterday's coffee from here."

Haruhi tilted her head, brown bangs brushing into her eyes. "That's right."

"I'll admit that this was a collaborative effort," Tamaki added. "The club told me where this place was and when it opened and such." He abruptly gave her the _koinu no meno_, clasping his hands together in an oddly old-fashioned gesture. His tone became enthusiastic.

"Can we buy some coffee, Haruhi? Oh can we? Please?" Even she softened at those puppy eyes, and knew that if Tamaki wanted something, he would get his way. She exhaled again, shoulders slumping in defeat.

"Fine."

"Oh, thank you!" Tamaki's eyes began to well up with joy as they pushed open the doors. "This is wonderful!"

* * *

"Excuse me sir, but we have a lot of customers today," a young, apron-clad barista said edgily to the pair as they stood behind the cash register.

Haruhi elbowed her companion and hissed, "Decide already, senpai!"

"But I don't know what to get!" Tamaki had been deliberating on which beverage to purchase for a solid five minutes. The line behind them was almost to the door now.

"We'll take two caramel frappuccinos," Haruhi said loudly, pushing some yen across the counter to a relieved-looking barista.

"Leave it to you to draw attention to yourself wherever you go, Tamaki-senpai," she sighed as they waited by the counter. He chuckled quietly as she went over to get some cupholders and plastic straws.

"I thought you ordered two frappuccinos, Haruhi," Tamaki said after a minute in a curious tone. Haruhi turned around with the straws in her hand, frowning.

"I _did_ order two. Why do you ask?"

Tamaki gestured to the counter. "They only gave us one." Sure enough, a lone beverage sat there, beads of water rolling coolly down its sides. A groan escaped Haruhi's lips.

An indignant look crossed Tamaki's features, and he declared, "How dare they fault our order like that? Here, you take this one Haruhi, while I go complain to these commoners for their blunder."

"No senpai," Haruhi answered flatly. "It's not worth waiting again on that line that you created. Besides, I can come here anytime, so you have this one." She held out the drink.

"My daughter is so nice!" Tamaki gushed, cheeks rosy with admiration. "Let's sit down somewhere. It's a miracle this place can afford velvet couches."

Once seated comfortably by the window, Tamaki pushed the drink toward Haruhi. "Here," he said softly. "You should have it."

She blinked in surprise. "But I thought you wanted to try a frappuccino."

"I do," he said smiling. Deep blue eyes crinkled up boyishly at the sides. "However, I owe you one. So here, drink."

"Senpai…"

Haruhi took a sip, then passed it to Tamaki. "Let's share," she said. His smile grew wider.

"Oh, that's so cute, Haruhiiii—"

"—but only if you stop saying disgusting things."

The host took a sip of the frappuccino and his eyes sparkled jubilantly. "This commoner's drink is amazing…" he murmured after swallowing. "Um, Haruhi?" he asked, twiddling his index fingers bashfully.

"What is it, senpai?"

"Can I have another sip?"

Haruhi looked surprised for moment before a winsome smile bloomed on her face. She nodded and watched as he drank happily like a Siamese with a ball of catnip, thinking to herself that she shouldn't be annoyed at Tamaki-senpai any longer. It was just his personality that made him sometimes forget peoples' boundaries; he couldn't help it. Tamaki would always be Tamaki, even if that meant invading her privacy on occasion.

And, being a friend meant that she had to accept that, changing room and all. Haruhi realized, watching Tamaki, that the rest of the Host Club was probably well aware of this fact. Of course they would know Tamaki's personality better than she would…

"Why are you making such a sad face, my daughter?" Tamaki asked. He held out the frappuccino. "Did you not get enough of this delicious coffee?"

"No, that's not it," Haruhi answered distantly, taking the drink and slowly sipping from it. It was cool and sweet.

"I've just realized that I don't know Tamaki-senpai as well as everyone else does." He cocked his head, not really understanding her words but smiling brightly.

"I can change that if you want, Haruhi," he crooned host-mode style, leaning in, his smile turning playfully seductive.

"In your dreams, senpai."

_End.

* * *

_I know I digressed a little bit (I really wanted to write the coffee scene, though). It still focuses on the privacy a little, though.


	5. Lesson 5

The Maxims of the Rich

_Ten lessons and rules one should know about Ouran Academy..._

A/N: this story would get boring if I wrote about just the club characters! Well technically Renge _is_ part of the club, but she's not a host or a main character. This was a challenge, writing for a character I don't particularly like. Yay for early posts ^^

_All characters © Hatori Bisco_

* * *

**Lesson 5: Everyone at Ouran has their assets--even the Otakus. **

_._**  
**

It was with less enthusiasm than usual that Houshakuji Renge uttered a "Good afternoon, everyone!" as she entered the third music room of Ouran High. This was in part due to the weather—it was late November, the skies were dark, and cold season had officially arrived. The other cause for her uncharacteristically crestfallen mood today was simply that…Renge felt utterly fed-up with the Host Club.

Wait, let's backtrack; perhaps that was somewhat of a malapropism. Renge was not tired of the Host Club, (which was running quite well, actually. The influx of customers was uncannily high this month) per say, but the Host Club's _boys_.

Renge had hoped that Japan's elite would befriend her more easily than the ones of France. She would never admit it aloud, but it shamed her that at almost sixteen years old she had never once had a true friend. All of the girls her age felt repelled at her unhealthy obsession with dating sims, manga, and anime. They couldn't understand what Renge saw in that kind of stuff, but they dared not make fun of her for fear that her father would nullify all of their familys' business industries. That was alright, for a while. Renge would just spend all of her time playing sims; they were the only friends she needed, even if they weren't actually real.

But here at Ouran High she was finally in the real world, amongst real people. They were so much different than her sims! Renge was fascinated, like a terrier pup laying eyes on a bone for the first time, by her peers. Unlike her sims, their reactions could not be predicted or simulated. She never knew what they would do, despite her ability to see their characters clearly. And, it was because of this that made Houshakuji Renge want to befriend these people more and more.

After declaring herself to be the Host Club's female manager, the otaku found that being accepted was no easy feat. One did not simply make friends in the snap of a finger. Renge tried to fit in, she really did. Like in France, the high-schoolers here could not understand her otaku ways. And, when she could get close to no one, she only tried harder.

Now, to the Host Club boys. Renge knew that they didn't particularly like her. She knew that her high-pitched squeal of a voice and her hyperactive and bossy mien annoyed them to no end. And that fiasco when she had first arrived with the film…Renge shuddered just remembering what a humiliating opprobrium her behavior had been during _that _incident.

They didn't hate her, though. On occasion they would compliment her on her character-enhancing talents and enthusiastic dedication to the club's weal. But even so, Renge couldn't help but feel despondent after every meeting. Her attention-loving demeanor failed to be satiated, and she found that they were too engrossed in their little world to pay much notice to her at all. She always used to comment on how their personalities were "not good enough," but lately, she had begun to wonder who the one who really needed the improvement was.

Those Hitachiin twins were the worst. They were cute, but their looks insidiously contradicted their mischevious mien. Even though she was strong-willed, she couldn't help but feel her pride take a blow when they tactlessly made fun of her on multiple occasions. "Get lost, Otaku," was their favorite phrase. Athough spoken with perfunctory annoyance, it made her feel sad all the same.

Tamaki, despite his claims to "please women," always regarded her with a false courtesy, as if being polite to her was just a propriety. He only really talked to her when she made a mistake, scolding her, in French, with a tone colored in polite disapproval.

Honey-kun always seemed very wary of her, as though she was some frenetic gorgon with a head of writhing snakes ready to devour him alive. His cousin was wordless, but seemed to act even more overprotective of Honey whenever she was around.

Renge always felt the most depressed around Haruhi-kun. She had taken a liking to the newest host, and found his oddly feminine looks extremely appealing. Yet, Haruhi-kun didn't seem to return her feelings in the slightest.

And Kyouya-sama… even though he complimented her every once in a while, she knew that she would never win his acceptance despite the deals their families held. She had loved him with all of her heart at one point, and would have easily sacrificed everything for him. But, Kyouya had given Renge her first taste of real human nature, showing her the hard way that people were not always as she expected them to be.

So it was with a look of surprise that her gaze fell on the only figure in the music room. He was casually tilted back on a chair with his eyes closed, the screen of his laptop pulsing with a soothing white glow. His head lolled back, causing dark bangs to fall away from his face and his glasses were still resting on the bridge of his sharp nose.

Her feelings for him had not been completely effaced, and Renge felt her heart stutter wildly as she saw him sitting there. She stared for a moment, realized that he was asleep, and breezed past him, smiling to herself and suppressing a squeal that threatened to burst forth.

As she walked by, the otaku realized that Kyouya-sama, for it was he, looked a little too pale. Walking on the balls of her feet as not to wake him, she backtracked and laid light brown eyes on his face once more. Renge noted with surprise that there were hectic red blotches on his cheeks, a thin sheen of sweat covered her prince's face…and he was wheezing slightly.

It did not take a rocket scientist to tell that something was amiss. Renge hissed in a little breath between her teeth as she felt Kyouya-sama's forehead. It was on fire.

The French girl threw a glance behind her to see if anyone was around to help, but of course there was no one here yet. With nimble and cautious fingers, her motherly instincts took over as she gently loosened Kyouya's necktie so that his breathing would come easier. With even more vigilance she slipped a hand into the pocket of his sky-blue Ouran jacket, finding what she desired. The hand, as delicately as a trained surgeon's, extracted the tiny cell phone.

Renge quickly exited the third music room and headed for the girl's lavatory, thumb brushing through Kyouya's contact list on the telephone until preferred name came up.

"Hello, um, is this Tachibana-san?" Renge chirped worriedly as a man answered formally on the other line. She cradled the phone in between her ear and her shoulder as she pushed open the door to the lavatory, listening to him speak.

"No, I have his phone right now, this is Houshakuji Renge. Can you come to the school right away?" she asked. "Kyouya-sama's quite ill!" And with that Renge snapped the cell phone shut, feeling rather accomplished. She grabbed a fuzzy towel that hung on a rack of shiny brass in the bathroom and soaked it with ice-cold water. With the phone stuffed into the pocket of her dress she jogged with the dripping towel back to the third music room. Once there, Renge placed the towel over Kyouya's slick forehead and returned his phone. She took a seat by her beloved _megane_ after she had finished and waited somewhat quietly for someone to arrive.

The remaining members of the Host Club appeared not too long before Kyouya's bodyguards did. They filed in, and Renge watched their faces contort into confused expressions and their eyes widen as they saw who was seated by her.

"Kyouya!" Tamaki rushed over, unconsciously taking charge as the others followed. "What happened?" he gazed at their self-proclaimed manager, blue eyes ardent.

Renge fiddled with her long, honey tresses and began, "Well, I came in and—"

"—Kyouya-sama!" Tachibana and the other two black-clad bodyguards had arrived, bursting in and curtailing the French girl before she could finish.

"Were you the one that called?" one of the men asked Renge succinctly as they approached their master.

Renge nodded, uncharacteristically timid before these daunting men. "I—I came in, and Kyouya-sama was lying here looking like this, and he was having a little trouble breathing so I loosened his tie and put a towel on his head…" she trailed off, unable to finish her run-on sentence.

Tachibana nodded once. "Thank you, miss. We will take Kyouya-sama home now. Call for the family doctor," he added to the man on his left, who whipped out a cell phone and began dialing with lightning speed. The other two hoisted the unconscious Kyouya up and, like a life-sized rag doll, carried him out of the room.

The other hosts stared with troubled expressions after them. "I wonder if Kyou-chan will be alright," Honey-senpai thought aloud. "He never gets sick…"

Tamaki flicked a lock of light hair out of his face and regarded Renge with gracious eyes and a determined mouth.

"Renge-chan, I believe I owe you thanks," he said softly, in Japanese. "You were there for Kyouya when we were not. For that I am in your debt." The Host King gave a little bow.

"Yeah, that was really nice of you, Renge," the twins said in perfect unison from behind. Renge's eyes widened at the use of her name as opposed to the usual "otaku."

Honey-senpai wrapped his small arms around her middle then and squeezed. "Thank you for helping Kyou-chan," he grinned. Mori made a little sound of agreement. "Would Ren-chan like to eat cake with me today?"

"T-that would actually be nice, Honey-kun," Renge said quietly, with a little surprised smile playing on her lips. All thoughts of moe were temporarily forgotten.

With warm brown eyes, Haruhi-kun leaned in. "Renge has a nice personality," he exclaimed. "I'm sure Kyouya-senpai will be appreciative of that when he gets better." Renge blushed furiously.

"So you guys…don't hate me?"

At this Tamaki threw his head back and let out a bright peal of laughter. The others looked puzzled before laughing themselves.

"Of course not, Renge-chan!" the Host King said, wiping his eyes and snorting. "Even though your ways of doing things are a bit…over the top at times, we've always known that you are a kind person."

Hikaru and Kaoru nodded. "We like people who are unique," they said.

Renge blushed an even more florid shade and went to go sit on a velvet rose settee. "Thank you, everyone," she said as Honey-kun handed her a plate of chocolate cake and a silver fork.

So the day took a turn for the better, Renge thought as she actually sat down with the Host Club that November afternoon. A week later Kyouya-sama returned, sniffling away the last vestiges of his cold, and thanked her genuinely. Renge noticed that his smile was so much nicer when it was a real one.

Maybe she could make friends here after all.


	6. Lesson 6

The Maxims of the Rich

_Ten lessons and rules one should know about Ouran Academy..._

A/N: What is this? An update? I apologize, this story was on hiatus for a few months. I will definitely finish it; I'm just short on ideas for chapters seven and eight.. Anyway, most of this was written a few months ago, but I picked the idea back up. It's so interesting to see how my writing changes as time goes on. So stay tuned, and thanks for reading!

_All characters © Hatori Bisco_

* * *

**Lesson #6: It's easy for the Host Club to forget that Fujioka Haruhi is a girl.**

_._**  
**

A pair of twinkling brown eyes gazed up at her, blinking, between the ears of a large rabbit. "Haru-chan, Haru-chan!" the voice emanating from behind the toy exclaimed. "We have some new cakes today! Would you like to try them with me?"

Haruhi sighed, feeling a tad guilty in disappointing the eager face of her senior. She responded with an apologetic, "I don't know, Honey-senpai, I'm not very hungry…" A hand crept to her middle and rubbed her lower abdomen absently.

Honey may have been the first one to spot it that day. The senior's winsome, childish exterior was sometimes so at odds with his uncannily perspicacious nature that most people tended to underestimate his abilities. His eyes lingered on Haruhi for a second longer before he rested his chin atop the stuffed rabbit's plushy head.

"It's double-chocolaaate!" he crooned with a hungry grin. "Are you sure?"

After a moment of internal debate, Haruhi extended her hand with a sigh. "Well, just a small piece then," she acquiesced. Honey handed her a porcelain plate and fork with a little bubbling giggle.

_Mmm_, Haruhi took a tentative bite, chewing slowly. She lowered her fork and prepared to sink it into the spongy cake once more. _This is actually quite g—_

"Alright everyone, it's time to change!" Tamaki's loud voice cut into the club room. "Our costumes are here, and it's just in time for Halloween, too!" He beamed at the boxes that were being rolled in to the third music room by the D-class students.

"Don't tell me we're doing vampires again, Tono," the twins griped as they eyed the cardboard cartons suspiciously. Tamaki chuckled and shook his head, shimmering blonde hair falling across his eyes.

Kyouya spoke on his behalf as he jotted down notes in his data book. "Oh no," he replied. "We never wear the same costumes twice. That's something that commoners do." Haruhi glared darkly at the vice president while Tamaki softly scolded "okaasan" for not respecting their daughter.

"Anyway, I think this theme will be popular. It's from a well-known American series called the Addams Family," Kyouya continued after adjusting the angle of his glasses. At the word _family_ Tamaki's blue eyes began to sparkle with an aqua ebullience.

"Ohh, a_ family_ cosplay! I should let you decide the themes more often, Kyouya!" he exclaimed, with obvious zeal. He and the others went over to open the boxes with their names printed on them, humming to himself: "Mamagoto, mamagotooo…"

"As if I haven't been doing that all along," Kyouya muttered under his breath, spectacles glinting in the light.

--- --- --- ---

Mori opened the doors to the third music room that afternoon, eyeing the female designators who were waiting outside.

"You rang?" he asked flatly.

The girls blushed as he let them in, commenting on his dashing butler uniform and parted hair.

The third music room had been transformed into something that remotely resembled a Victorian funeral home. Kaoru, who had donned a pigtailed wig and dark dress was holding hands with is older brother ad welcoming the customers. Somehow Hikaru still managed to look attractive despite the striped monochrome shirt and shorts that clashed brutally with his hair color. The guests fawned over Honey, who smiled at them from behind a veil of straw hair, hat, and glasses.

Tamaki rubbed the mustache under his nose irritatingly and fiddled with his black hair, miffed that his daughter had now become his mother.

"You look absolutely adorable, Grandmama!" Honey proclaimed as he passed by Haruhi's table. There was a little hole in the upper portion of his costume where the cake disappeared into, like a vacuum, never to see the light of day again.

Haruhi attempted to push some of her frizzy hair away from her face. "Thank you, Cousin It," she replied dryly. Her antiquated dress was a pale gray and hid her washboard, A-cup chest rather fashionably. Honey took his cake and dashed away to find his real cousin.

On the far side of the room, the guests were having a hard time tearing their gaze away from Kyouya, who had at first been uncomfortable at donning such a tight outfit. The attire became a little more bearable, however, once he realized the merit it attracted. Besides, he felt kind of pretty.

"Kyouya-san, are you…Morticia?" One of the attendees asked him timidly. She was finding it difficult to speak with the black velvet dress clinging so lasciviously to his every muscle and contour. Kyouya brushed back long hair and gave a nod.

"I used to watch the Addams Family as a kid!" the girl gushed, gaining more courage. Her friend nodded. "But I'd always thought that they were too scary…"

"Au contraire," Kyouya smiled politely, fulfilling his role as the data provider, "The Addams Family was a group of polite, if strange people. They were just misunderstood by the majority of society."  
Before the girl could admire his intelligence Tamaki had rushed to the Shadow King's side, grabbing his black-gloved arm frenetically.

"Kyouya, 'au contraire!'" he swooned. "That's _French!"_ Kyouya resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"Oh, _mon ami!_ 'Tish!" The girls began to fiercely squee as Tamaki made a show of pretending to kiss every spot of "mother's" arm.

--- --- --- ---

The Addams Family theme was going pretty well…until about an hour into the club, when something went dreadfully wrong.

"So Haruhi-kun wants to be a lawyer?" Kanako inquired as the girl next to her sighed in admiration.

"Mm," Haruhi responded, nodding and sipping from a cup of black tea. She set the cup down on its saucer and smiled compassionately. "I want to follow in my mother's footsteps."

"Is Haruhi-kun a lot like his mother?" the other one asked. Haruhi blew a strand of fake grizzly hair out of her eyes. The wig really was bothersome; she had almost inhaled the fake bangs along with her tea twice already. As the strand flew up into the air, it dawned on Haruhi that she needed to make a trip to the restroom.

"Yes, a little," she answered to her guest. "Now if you'll excuse me, ladies, I will be right back." She rose sinuously and turned to leave, but a shrill cry stopped her and made her whip her head around.

"H-Haruhi-kun!" the girls stammered, eyes wide and fearful. "Are you hurt?"

"Huh?" the brunette blinked incomprehensively. The rest of the club had stopped whatever they had been doing and were regarding her with unreadable expressions. Kyouya's eyebrows raised, a typical sign that he was aware of the situation, but he merely pushed his glasses up and remained silent. Tamaki made a little 'urk' noise in the back of his throat and his complexion began to take on a florid tone.

"What's wrong?"

"B-blood!" Kanako pointed with a shaking finger at the seat of Haruhi's dress and chair.

Already having a pretty good idea of what had happened, the host cast her eyes downward. Sure enough, the whole bottom of Grandmama's outfit was wet and red, not to mention that the seat her chair was stained as well. She surveyed the mess and stifled a groan. It had come unexpectedly today, without any notice. Haruhi knew it would have arrived in a few days anyway, but so soon... A lace of panic shot through her; how would she explain this?

Tamaki, although idiotic at times, was no arrant fool. He realized immediately what had happened, and was sifting through ideas in his mind of how to cover it up. It was easy during club hours to forget that Haruhi was in fact female, and that females had certain _things_ to worry about that males did not.

He hurried over, ready to calm Haruhi's guests but unsure of what to say. Tamaki's mind was completely blank. Perhaps he would soothe the ladies with his words of love. Yes, anything, would work. Just as he opened his mouth a new voice cut into the shocked silence.

"Hee, Happy Halloween!"

Silence befell the Host Club for a hovering moment before anyone spoke.

"..."

"Honey…kun?"

Yes, the one who had spoken was Haninozuka Mitsukuni. Somehow, he had procured a bucket of paint, waving around a red-soaked brush in his hand.

He pushed up his Cousin It costume, smiling gleefully. "Ne ne, were you guys scared? Didja think it was real blood?"

Tamaki caught on and laughed vociferously. "Yes, your poor, adorable faces looked so scared!" he trilled. "We didn't mean to frighten you _that _badly, dear ladies! Come take refuge in my warm arms if you're scared—I'll protect you!"

"However, it was a fitting prank for Halloween," Kyouya remarked, also playing along amusedly. The twins didn't really know what was going on, but they pointed and snickered anyway as Haruhi slipped away amongst the laughter and relief.

--- --- --- ---

"I owe you thanks, Honey-senpai," Haruhi said humbly to the tiny senior once the club had ended. Her expression was one of mild embarrassment, cheeks tinted with a dark rose blush.

"Mm-mm!" Honey mumbled through a mouthful of pumpkin pie. "Don't mention it, Haru-chan!"

"Ah…" the younger host trailed off, frazzled. She looked towards Mori, who was seated by the window, reading stoically as if nothing had happened. Just how deep _was_ Honey-senpai?

"Haruhi, you are dismissed from the club so you may go home and change," Kyouya called from his table, not looking in the least bit perturbed. Perhaps it was because he had an older sister, and this was nothing that he hadn't already seen before. That was coolhand Kyouya for you.

Tamaki, and the twins, on the other hand, looked as if they were being forced to swallow raw briars and needles. They watched the female host shrewdly, afraid to speak. The menstrual cycle was a mystery to them, and they silently debated on whether or not to speak to her, lest she be irritated.

Before leaving, Haruhi shot a glance to her left and right to ensure that no one else was in whispering range. She leaned in and murmured, "Um, if you don't mind me asking, how did Honey-senpai know?"

"Silly Haru-chan!" Honey giggled, playing with his stuffed rabbit's floppy ear. "No one thinks twice about the double-chocolate cake!"

_End._


	7. Lesson 7

The Maxims of the Rich

_Ten lessons and rules one should know about Ouran Academy..._

All characters © Hatori Bisco

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**Lesson #7: Attempting to get Ootori Kyouya to wear contact lenses is strongly discouraged.**

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**

The unexpected warm front that arrived mid-February had everyone in high spirits. Brutally frigid weather had wracked the weeks preceding, and more than one student at Ouran Academy had taken a nasty fall on the ice outside. Now, rays of sun were poking tentatively out from behind gray stormclouds, thawing the clumps of frozen snow that littered the grounds of the private school.

In the third music room of the academy, the notorious Host Club was thriving. Dispositions were sunny to reflect the weather outside, and if the temperature didn't melt all the ice, the throbbing love-love from inside soon would.

The King of the Club was almost sparkling. Suoh Tamaki served his customers with ardor, passion, and charm, also thriving in the sudden change of season.

"Um, Tamaki-sama, I was wondering if you would like some of this new imported tea?"

"Of, course, my darling!" Tamaki gushed, flailing out his arms in wide, swooping gestures. Like a dancer, he did a little half-pirouette and continued with elegant waves of his arms, off in his own little world of beauty. "It would be my absolute _pleasure_ to indulge in the sweet fragrance of your tea! I will cherish the moment that I shared this tea with you for—"

"Look out, senpai!"

Tamaki had not realized it, but all of his graceful floundering had carried him away from the guests' velvet settees and into the middle of the room, where Kyouya was passing by. Unfortunately Haruhi's cry had not warned Tamaki in time for him to react, and with a gesture his left arm made forceful contact with the side of Ootori Kyouya's face.

Regaining his balance, Tamaki rushed over to his friend. _"Okaasan!" _he cried with concern so genuine many of his guests began to fawn.

"Are you alright, Kyouya-san?"

"Is Kyou-chan hurt?"

"I'm fine," Kyouya replied, getting to his feet nimbly. His elliptical glasses, which had been knocked from his face, lay on the floor with a little crack interrupting the smooth glass of the lens.

One of Kyouya's fans looked sadly at his cracked glasses as the Club's vice president slid them back onto his face. "How terrible," she sighed. Some of the other girls nodded in agreement.

"Don't worry," Kyouya reassured, his voice smooth and nonchalant. "I'll just make Tamaki pay for the damage costs." He threw a glance to the host in question, who was curled up in a corner amidst a dark cloud of compunction.

A few of Tamaki's designators came over and attempted to cheer him up while he muttered, "It's all my fault…Kyouya hates me…I'm such a bad father…"

"Kyouya-san?" one member piped up. She was a shy, quiet girl, like most of Kyouya's fans. "Have you ever considered wearing contact lenses?" The girl asked, blushing a dusty rose color and looking surprised that such a bold statement had escaped her lips.

"Yeah, senpai. Why don't you?" the Hitachiin twins interjected, eavesdropping as usual. Kyouya's fan jumped a little, startled at the sudden loud voices.

"Your silicon nose pads have already broken off," Kaoru remarked. "Why not save yourself all the trouble of pushing your glasses up every few minutes and get contacts like Haruhi?"

Tamaki, from the far corner of the room, seemed to snap out of his self-pitying daze and rushed over.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you!" he hissed, clamping a hand over each of the twin's mouths.

Hikaru blinked. "Y ntt?" he asked through Tamaki's hand.

The Host King's voice dipped, taking on an ominous quality that would have made Nekozawa-senpai proud. "Trust me, Hikaru," he replied. "You don't want to see it."

"Actually," Kyouya spoke up for the first time, unconsciously pushing his glasses up with an idle finger, "If you guys really want to see me in contact lenses I wouldn't mind wearing them for a while." At this Tamaki blanched visibly.

Haruhi walked by with a tray of steaming tea and biscuits, frowning slightly. "You know, I doubt Renge would approve of that," she commented.

Tamaki looked momentarily relieved. With a flick of his blonde hair he laughed nervously and added, "Yes, Yes! She definitely would!"

"Oh, but I'm sure Kyouya-san would look so beautiful without his glasses!" a guest exclaimed, twisting the ends of her canary-yellow dress enthusiastically. The twins were scrutinizing Kyouya intently, trying to imagine his face devoid of the spectacles that defined him as the megane character.

"Come one, Kyouya-senpai," they chorused. "What do you have to lose? The Host Club may make even more profit from this."

The Ootori folded his thin arms, unfazed. Tamaki let out an audible gulp and clutched his bosom dramatically as a little semi-smile tickled Kyouya's lips. His expression was abstrusely cool.

"We shall see," he said.

---

Haruhi awoke not to the tinny sound of her alarm clock, but to the sound of her father dropping something heavy in the other room. Groggily, she looked at her clock and discovered that the battery had completely died. Her heart sank even further when she saw the morning light streaming in through her window. The late morning light.

"Dad! What time is it?" she asked breathlessly, buttoning the jacket of her male Ouran uniform as she stumbled into the kitchen.

Ranka was rubbing his smarting foot, which had recently suffered the fate of having a bowl dropped onto it. "Ah, Haruhi," he said sunnily, looking up. "I thought I'd let you sleep in today, since I haven't gotten around to getting those new batteries. You looked tired."

"It's a weekday, Dad!" Haruhi protested as she threw a glance towards the clock on the wall. It read 9:30 am. "I have school!"

After grabbing a quick bite to eat Haruhi rushed over to the school as fast as her legs could carry her. By the time she arrived she was panting and perspiring profusely.

But, to her surprise, she was not alone on the school grounds. The other students of Ouran were all congregated on the vast lawn in throngs and bunches. From a bird's eye view, the lawn would have looked as if it had just sprouted blue and yellow flowers. Haruhi took a moment to catch her breath, frowning.

"Ah, there's my daughter!"

She turned to the familiar voice to see the rest of the Host Club approaching. Tamaki looked a little pale, as did the others, but he wore a warm smile nonetheless. "Lovely day, isn't it, Haruhi?" he asked, as if nothing was amiss.

"Why weren't you in homeroom this morning?" Hikaru and Kaoru inquired, cocking their heads in unison.

"Overslept," Haruhi responded offhandedly. "More importantly, what is everyone doing out here?"

"Ehm…" Tamaki suddenly looked uncomfortable. He fidgeted, cleared his throat, and looked to his fellow hosts to supply him with the needed explanation.

"Kyouya," Mori said. Haruhi blinked large, mahogany eyes.

"_Ano ne_," Honey-senpai began, "Vice Principal Kazama actually ordered a full-out evacuation of the school today." Small hands crept around his stuffed rabbit and squeezed it tightly.

Haruhi threw a glance towards the building. There didn't appear to be a fire or anything of notable distress. "What for?" she asked.

"Well, it's actually because of Kyou-chan."

"EH?"

"I told them, I told them!" Tamaki muttered fervently, more to himself than to Haruhi. "But did they listen to me? No they did not!"

The twins tried not to look guilty, but their endeavors were unsuccessful.

"Kyouya-senpai wears his glasses for a reason," Tamaki explained to Haruhi, who still looked slightly confused. She felt the waves of fear practically rolling off everyone around her.

"His eyes look too heinous without them, so he needs something to shield the full force of his glare," he continued fretfully. Haruhi, who had been in the Host Club long enough to know better, believed him. With a slender finger that trembled slightly, Tamaki pointed back towards the school. Suddenly those sash windows began to look a whole lot more like gaping mouths.

"There's a demon in there."

End.

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_A/N: I promise I'll stop picking on Kyouya now. He's just so fun to tease, I'm sorry. :D _


End file.
